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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076332">Guide Us Through the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverSiren/pseuds/TheSilverSiren'>TheSilverSiren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Intimacy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Polyamory, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverSiren/pseuds/TheSilverSiren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley have invited a third person into their relationship: the smart and sassy Yara Gatewood. One stormy night, following a blackout, they look for candles. But they find the light in each other's arms instead. One-shot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Guide Us Through the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A little-known fact about the heart was that it was not like a box that sooner or later ran out of room, allowing only a certain number of people in. In reality, the heart was like a plant, spreading and growing in accordance to the love it received. </p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale, the former representatives of Hell and Heaven respectively, came to learn that lesson a year or so after they managed to stop Armageddon. Finally free to live on Earth, with their superiors too terrified to bother them anymore, the two supernatural beings decided to enjoy their new-found liberty.<br/>
First things first: they admitted their feelings to one another. Aziraphale gave himself away first, accidentally calling the demon 'love' instead of 'dear' or 'my dear fellow'. They had looked each other for a few seconds, stunned silence weaving between them like cobwebs. Then, Crowley had grinned wolfishly, removed his dark glasses, and planted a passionate kiss on his angel's lips. It had been the first kiss they shared; the first of many. </p><p>After that, they got to work searching for a place to call their own. Crowley's swanky apartment would certainly fetch at a handsome price, not that money was really an issue to the couple, and he only had a few possessions to pack into boxes. At first, they considered someplace in Aziraphale's beloved Soho, but after a bit of searching, they began to look beyond London's smoggy borders. Both immortals had come to consider London their home, choosing it over the countless locations they had visited over the last sixty centuries. And yet, they now craved something a little different. Something still nearby, naturally, but a bit quieter. More intimate, perhaps, to mark this new chapter in their lives. Of their life together. After several weeks of searching, both via the Internet and local newspapers, the couple finally found a small cottage in South Downs. It looked delightful on the ad, but when they drove to see it in person (with Crowley driving at a hundred miles per hour in his beloved Bentley), it was even better. Sitting in the middle of an exquisite square of green, framed by wild hedges, was a thatched cottage made from thick gray stone. Given that it was at the end of the lane, providing a nice bit of privacy, Crowley blissfully imagined shedding his human form and curling up in the sun for long naps. The inside was even better, with a chimney dominating the living room and streams of light pouring into the windows like pale silk. In the kitchen were all modern conveniences, including a couple of cookbooks that made Aziraphale squawk like a bird. Upstairs were three large chambers, one of which was to become Aziraphale's library. They bought it the day after seeing it, and moved in three days after that.</p><p>From there, life took on a comfortable rhythm.</p><p>Bit by bit, the couple bought and arranged furniture to their liking, with Crowley hanging up the framed Mona Lisa sketch (a gift from Da Vinci, with both agreeing that it was better than the final result) in the living room. Not stopping there, the demon also bought deep red curtains that could, when drawn, made any room look like the inside of a pomegranate. His golden chair, plush with red velvet (a historical artifact that had disappeared from the local museum forty years prior), was placed next to the fireplace so that he could soak up the heat whenever it got chilly. He also refused to sleep in any bed that did not have satin sheets.<br/>
Aziraphale mostly bought books at first, but when Crowley began to complain about the space they were taking up, the pair got to work building shelves and installing lamps. The angel peppered the cottage with comfortable armchairs so that anyone, at any given point under their roof, could cuddle up with a brick-sized novel and a cup of tea. Most of that time, that 'anyone' was him. But on occasion, Crowley sprawled over one too, magazine in hand.</p><p>When they weren't piecing their home together, the two explored their new surroundings and met their neighbors. They found that they were relatively near the beach, which would be the setting to many picnics, swimmings, and intimate moments. Crowley even caught a large fish for them to eat that night, an occasion that brought tears of joy to Aziraphale's eyes. In town was an open-air market that sold everything from pigeon to seafood to fresh produce. That became the couple's main source of sustainence. Up the lane, there were half a dozen other cottages with a colorful cast inhabiting them. Some were couples, just like them. Some were large families. Others were seniors looking to enjoy retirement somewhere peaceful. Yet another cottage was occupied by a group of artists hoping to create their magnum opuses in the green silence of South Downs.</p><p>Crowley kept a distance, never having been an especially social person. Aziraphale, on the other hand, all but threw himself at their neighbors, spending entire afternoons chatting with them and often going on shopping trips with them in the mornings. The angel even began to attend a book club once a week, which he attended without fail. More than once he tried to coax Crowley along, but the demon always refused. He knew that his angel meant well, he really did, but he just didn't like groups of people. He didn't like talking with others that much, and he usually kept to himself. Not to say that Crowley was antisocial; he just did not connect with others easily. Aziraphale had been an exception. He just had such a gentle, likeable openness about him that people were drawn to, and his divine nature had nothing to do with it. He was kind and gentle, always ready to chat and prepared to do good whenever possible. Yes, he could be a bit of a goody-two-wings sometimes, and he did occasionally have a holier-than-thou attitude, but that was to be expected.</p><p>Aziraphale respected Crowley's decision, and never forced him into it. Which was why it shocked Crowley one night, two months after their moving in, when his angel brought back a member of his book club. A woman. Yara Gatewood.</p><p>Little did he know that Aziraphale, while still being utterly and unendingly in love with him, had come to feel drawn to this woman as well. Nor would Crowley have ever expected to find himself falling for her, too, even though his love for his angel was never swayed. He <em>especially</em> would not have imagined her to fall for the both of them, too.  </p><p>***</p><p>Nine months later would see the three of them sitting at the table, a feast laid out before them and conversation buzzing above them like bees. Outside, the world was an inky cesspool of screaming wind, lashing rain, and droning thunder. But the inside of the cottage was warm and cozy, with the fireplace roaring and the smells of dinner printed on every surface. Shepherd's pie and salad was on the menu tonight, along with some misshapen bread that Yara had insisted Crowley help her make.</p><p>Crowley held one roll up, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh. Look at this. It looks like a piece of a leper's face." He of course didn't mention that he had actually been around long enough to know what that looked like. Neither he nor Azirphale had revealed their true nature to Yara.<br/>
Yara gave him a playfully cross expression. "Wow, how appetizing! Thanks for that one, love!" In defiance of his remark, she snatched the roll out of Crowley's hand and took a wolfish bite out of it. Looking him in the eyes the entire time. Crowley felt his entire body tingle, and he tried not to curse.<br/>
Aziraphale spooned a generous amount of shepherd's pie in his mouth, his eyes flickering between his loved ones. Swallowing, he put his hands on both of theirs. "They taste marvelous, my darlings. Appearance matters not."<br/>
Yara beamed. "Aw, thanks sweetie." She leaned forward and pecked Aziraphale's rosy cheek, making it even rosier. Nine months ago, that gesture would have sent Crowley into a foaming-at-the-mouth jealous frenzy. Now, it made him give a crooked smile. Retreating in her chair, Yara gave Crowley a pointed (but still playful) look. "See, Crowley? Azzy gets it."</p><p>"Yes, well, 'Azzy' is with both of us, isn't he?" Crowley challenged. "So his standards are pretty low."</p><p>Yara tossed her long, wavy hair back. Dyed a deep cobalt, with light brown roots forever peeking through. "Speak for yourself, Mr. I-Never-Take-My-Shades-Off." She cocked a brow at him. "Seriously, who are you? The lost Blues Brother?" There was no cruelty in her tone, only teasing. </p><p>"At least I don't look like Sadness from that bloody Pixar movie!" Crowley countered with even more teasing.</p><p>And poor Aziraphale was the Switzerland of the lovers' banter, comforting himself with their homemade meal. At last, his two more fiery-tempered companions grew bored of the game and finished their by now cooling dishes. Their plates were soon as empty as Aziraphale's, despite his three additional helpings of shepherd's pie. The three rose as one and began to clear the table, with Yara storing the dirty plates in the dishwater while Crowley dumped the leftover salad in a Tupperware container. Spotting an unopened bottle of wine, he claimed it. Tore the cork off with his teeth and spat it out. Yara intentionally bumped into him as she picked up the cork and tossed it in the wastebasket. Aziraphale wiped the table clean and, upon noticing that the trash-can was getting a little full, secretly miracled it empty.</p><p>In the biref absence of conversation, the storm outside seemed more violent than ever. Rain pelted the windows with a force that threatened to break the glass. Flashes of lightning turned night into day. Thunder rumbled for seemingly minutes at a time; the low snarl of a beast that smelled blood but saw no prey. Aziraphale and Crowley, who had seen - and felt - many a storm, gave this tempest little more than a passing notice. Yara was a tad more nervous, even though she tried to mask it with another joke. "Jeez, it's really coming down." She flashed an anxious smile. "What, are we gonna look outside and find Noah's Ark parked on the road?"</p><p>"You're a few centuries too late, love." Crowley answered casually, sprawling his long legs on the vacated seats. "Now <em>that</em> was a storm, let me tell you!"</p><p>Aziraphale tried to give Crowley a look, but the demon either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it.</p><p>Yara smirked, crossing her freckled arms across her chest. "Oh, really?"</p><p>"Yes, really!" Crowley replied eagerly, nearly spilling wine on his black silk shirt. "When it wasn't raining, it was hailing. When it wasn't hailing, it was just the winds blowing the boat about, back and forth, like the world's worst rocking horse."</p><p>Aziraphale tried to make his look more pointed, but it caught the attention of the wrong partner.</p><p>"Hey," Yara place a hand on Aziraphale's plump arm, "you okay, honey? You look like you got a stomachache."</p><p>Crowley snorted in his wine.</p><p>"Oh, no, darling. But thank you." Aziraphale covered his hand with hers. Their eyes met, and he smiled with all the affection he harbored for her. "I'm absolutely tickety-boo, just a bit knackered."</p><p>"Poor baby." Yara planted a gentle kiss on his lips, making both their bellies flip. She stroked his cheek. "If you want to precede us to bed, go on. We'll join you soon."</p><p>Crowley shook his head. "No, thanks." He held up his bottle. "I'm a man on a mission."</p><p>Yara rolled her eyes. Normally hazel, they caught the lamp's warm light and became the color of honey. "Fine. While Bacchus here knocks himself out, I'm gonna finish <em>1984</em>. I might need a drink myself, now that I think about it." She spoke this last part to herself, already envisioning her beverage of choice: Campari Soda with ice.</p><p>Aziraphale winked. "I finished it this morning."</p><p>Yara chuckled. "Of course."</p><p>In that moment, everything went black. Just like that. One second they were standing about in their home, getting ready to conclude their day. The next, they were standing in a darkness so profound that there was no difference between keeping their eyes open and closing them.</p><p>They all remained immobile for an instant, taking it in. Neither immortal being knew it yet, but Yara was already struggling to keep her breathing even. Her heart had begun to gallop against her chest, and irrational fear began to creep along her spine. She remained quiet, not trusting her voice.</p><p>"Oh, dear." Aziraphale sighed. "I can't say that I'm surprised, really. Crowley, Yara, dears, shall we get some candles?"</p><p>"Sure thing, Angel." Crowley took one last gulp from the bottle before setting it down. "Wouldn't want to stub my toe." Being a denizen of Hell, which had the faultiest lights in the universe, Crowley had no trouble seeing in the dark. It was why he could wear sunglasses at night without so much as stumbling. Of course, humans found the practice weird (excluding those who simply mistook him for a blindman). But it was a lot better than letting them see what he was hiding beneath his stylish specs. All the same, Crowley knew that he had appearances to keep up with Yara, and Aziraphale did not have his night-vision. So, the lanky demon rose and made a beeline for the lower cupboard. Within seconds, he had four scented candles in his hands. "Here we are!" He handed two of them to his lovers. Aziraphale, who secretly miracled his candle alight, took a moment to smile at the tiny flame. Then, he sniffed at its rich vanilla scent. The candle found its perch on the counter. "Ah, much better."</p><p>With trembling fingers, Yara lit hers. She cradled it in her hands, willing it to keep the shadows away. All the same, its small circle of light cast twisted shadows around her. Reminding her of nights best forgotten. Her throat suddenly tight, she placed the candle in the middle of the table.</p><p>Crowley, who had just placed his candle near the sink, noticed his and Aziraphale's partner trembling. "Oi," he called softly, "you alright?"</p><p>"Y-yeah." Yara squeaked out. She cleared her throat before trying again. "Yeah. I'm fine." Tucked some hair behind her studded ear. "Um, I think I'm going to sit by the fire." And with that, she was gone. The angel and the demon shared a confused, concerned look before reverting their gazes to their partner. She was sitting before the roaring fire, knees hugged to her chest, with her back to them. This was not the first time she had suddenly appeared so startled, but it was the first time it had happened in their home. It was not difficult to figure out that Yara, despite being thirty, was afraid of the dark. But there was more to it than that. Crowley and Aziraphale, who were naturally equipped to sense certain human emotions (which made it easier to either bless or tempt them), felt that this phobia went deeper than that.</p><p>It could have been related to a past experience for all they knew. But just as Aziraphale and Crowley had kept their immortality and true races a secret from Yara, however much they had come to care for her, they knew that Yara was keeping secrets from them. She'd mentioned that she'd grown up in a very isolated house, nine miles away from the nearest town, with five siblings and two parents. She'd told them that she, and all of her siblings, had been homeschooled from primary school all the way to college. She was in touch with one sibling: her eldest brother, Seth. But other than that, the two immortal beings knew nothing about her past. Seth came by a couple times a month, and usually stayed for dinner. He was a polite man, with scraggly black hair and violet eyes, who had a passion for archery. He and Yara were as thick as theives. But other than that? Nor Crowley nor Aziraphale knew her family looked like, any of their names, or even if they were still alive. Yara had told them these scant facts during their first couple of dates, then had insisted that the rest was boring. Her life after moving out, she'd told them, was far more interesting. When Crowley had once tried to probe Seth for more information, Seth had insisted that there was nothing to tell and that he had his own life now, just like Yara.</p><p>Crowley was the first to sit beside Yara, his shoulder bumping against hers. They sat like that for a bit, not speaking, listening to the unusual symphony of the fire's crackling and the storm's screaming. At some point, Yara rested her head on Crowley's shoulder. The demon's sensitive nose caught the faint scent of her hair dye. Beneath it, he smelled apricots; she used the same shampoo she'd used as a little girl. He found that adorable, even though he'd be pressed to admit it. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "You know you're safe with us, right, love?" He asked her softly. Looked down at her. "There's nothing to be afraid of."</p><p>Yara nodded against him. Snuggling closer. "Yeah. You guys are safe with me, too." </p><p>Crowley found that statement incredibly endearing. It led him to do what he'd done many times before: gently cup Yara's chin in his hand, lift her face up, and caress her lips with his. She responded immediately, moving her lips along with his and cupping his cheek. Aziraphale watched them, his chest fit to bursting with love for both of them. He began to move closer, not wanting to interrupt the moment. As he moved silently, he saw Crowley slowly turn up the heat. In a way that he hadn't seen the demon do with Yara before. Crowley's kiss grew hungrier, more passionate. For a second Yara went rigid with surprise; then, she responded accordingly, angling her body towards Crowley's. The demon accepted the invitation, gently pushing her down on the soft Persian carpet. Hovering above her, he continued his onslaught of fierce kisses. Aziraphale felt himself getting feverish simply by watching. He would not be able to keep still much longer.<br/>
Crowley at last pulled back, quickly pushing his shades up. Yara opened her eyes, her pupils blown wide. Her cheeks were as red as ripe cherries, and her smile was both shy and warm. "Wow," she whispered, gently tangling her fingers in the demon's fiery hair. "Where'd <em>that</em>come from?"</p><p>Crowley grinned at her. "There's more where that came from, love, if you'd like."</p><p>Yara blinked, then looked away. "What about...?" Her question died in her throat as she spotted Aziraphale. Smiling lovingly, she gestured for him to come closer. The angel happily obliged, taking a moment to trap Crowley into a passionate kiss of his own. At this point, Crowley's mind was beginning to turn in a certain direction. Yet he hesitated. He and Aziraphale had gone down that road many times at this point, ever since they got together. Once, they'd gone a full fortnight doing little else, with only a couple of short breaks to eat and bathe.</p><p>But with Yara? Yes, she'd been living with them for three months now, and they had gotten into some pretty intense make-out sessions. They even slept in the same king-sized bed. But they hadn't reached that milestone with Yara yet. They had wanted to, of course, but had wanted for it to happen organically, without feeling that they'd forced her. </p><p>And yet, something had changed that night. Something had shifted between the three of them, brought on by the darkness. The same darkness that now filled Yara's gaze as she sat up. First, she kissed Aziraphale, refusing to exclude him. Crowley watched them, almost drooling at the thought. Then, she pulled away and took both the demon's and the angel's hands. She placed her own atop theirs. "If you guys want..." she spoke softly, with more than a touch of shyness, "...I'd like for us to...well, make love."</p><p>The two males blinked at the same time, shocked. They shared a look, exchanging a thousand words. At long last, they faced their partner again. Smiling bashfully, Aziraphale said, "We would like that very much, dear."</p><p>Five minutes later, the three of them were in the bedroom. It was all well and good to make love by the fire, but it went unsaid that their first time deserved something more comfortable. Especially given Yara's fear from before. Lighting a few of candles beforehand with a snap of his fingers, Crowley led his two partners in by the hand. A gentle glow filled the room, keeping the shadows at bay. The bedroom had already been personal and colorful when it had just been Crowley and Aziraphale, with red velvet drapes, a bookshelf choking on yellow-paged volumes, and several framed images to both their liking. When Yara had moved in, she'd added her own touches to the room. A small hand-woven rug she'd gotten from India many years ago, for example, and a chess set that had been in her family for three generations. She'd even added stickers to the full-body mirror, much to the amusement of her partners. This familiar ambiance loosened Yara's shoulders as she sat on the bed alongside Aziraphale, who was trapping her in a gentle kiss.</p><p>"My love," he told her between pecks, "if you feel uncomfortable at any time, or if you want to stop, just tell us and we will. And we won't love you any less. Right, Crowley?" He turned to the demon for confirmation.</p><p>"'Course." To Crowley, it went without saying.</p><p>Yara smiled and gave the angel a lingering kiss before saying, "No. I want this. With both of you." She looked both of them in the eyes to show that she meant it. After a second, she whispered. "I...I need this." Something about the way she said this, as though she were embarrassed to admit it, melted Aziraphale's heart. He tried to show it by kissing her again, all the while he began to unbutton his vest. Rolling his eyes at how long it would take, Crowley sat behind his angel on the bed. Wrapping his arms around the plump male, the demon got to work undressing him. First the vest, then the shirt. He let his hands linger as he did, trailing Aziraphale's soft form. Pressing his body against Aziraphale's, he left a trail of deep kisses that would definitely leave a mark. The angel moaned in his and Yara's kiss, which caused the blue-haired woman to retreat. She eyed the angel's pining expression, and his half-dressed state, with unabashed hunger. "Crowley?" Her voice was silky with lust, her tone cheeky. "We shouldn't let our poor angel stand out, now should we?"</p><p>"No, love." Crowley agreed, just as cheekily. "We most definitely should not." He got his clothes off in record time, fully at ease with his own body, and basked in the open awe and love that filled his partners' gazes. Yara had never seen him like this before, yet she did not turn away. She sat there, drinking in the sight, with her accelerating heart-rate reaching his ears. Aziraphale was spell-bound, even though he, by contrast, had seen Crowley naked more often than an astronomer sees stars. Somehow, every time was new. Every lean contour. Every line of muscle. Every patch of perfect skin. It all took his breath away. Soon, Aziraphale was stripping bare as well. His body was much softer, evidence of his love for food. Yet somehow, Crowley always made him feel beautiful. Loveable. Worthy. Crowley, unable to take it anymore, all but lunged at Aziraphale and began to assault his body with kisses that might as well have burned his skin. Aziraphale let out a series of gasps and moans, pleasure warming him like a bright spring morning. He wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him closer, and ravaged his neck.</p><p>But soon, they both felt the absence of Yara and turned. They both stopped, frozen in their embrace. </p><p>Yara sat there, her clothes at her feet, looking as shy as a girl performing in a school play. Her long hair was draped over her shoulder, trailing all the way down to her waist. It shone in the candle's glow like an ocean overseen by a lighthouse. She was neither thin as Crowley nor plump as Aziraphale; she was somewhere squarely in the middle, with slender limbs and shapely hips. Tattoos of various colors occupied different parts of her body. Some, the two males had seen before. Others were new. Oscar Wilde's <em>"The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame"</em> was printed on her side. On one shoulder there was a tree with a tire swing; on the other, to Crowley's delight, a serpent. A hamsa tattoo rested on her outer thigh. A fern, its leaves spread wide, wrapped around her lower leg. A moth hovered above her naval. She gave a chuckle at their expressions. "What're you guys looking at? I'm not a steak."</p><p>Crowley smirked. "You sure about that?"</p><p>Her shyness gone, Yara said, "Oh, you're going to get it now!" She tackled him, making them both roll over the soft covers. Aziraphale watched them with baited breath, moving closer once they'd settled. Crowley was lying on his back, his hands on Yara's hips. Yara, mounting him, smirked. "I win." She proved it with a kiss before turning her head and kissing the angel as well. Crowley chuckled before giving Yata's thigh a slap. Not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that anyone would accuse him of losing his touch. "Well, then, where do we go from here?"</p><p>"I think you know." Yara winked. Facing Aziraphale, she ran a hand through his snowy hair. "You're next, Azzy. Sound good?"</p><p>"Very." Aziraphale breathed.</p><p>"But first..." Yara peered down at Crowley thoughtfully. As if looking at a picture from a different angle. Then, she removed his shades. Crowley's smile disappeared. He didn't know why he didn't stop her. He could've. But he didn't. He lay there, barely breathing, feeling like an animal caught in a trap. Yara leaned a little closer, her hazel eyes searching his yellow snake's eyes. Inspected them. Took them in. Her expression was not one of horror, of disgust, but of amazement. She placed both hands on his cheeks, her thumbs gently rubbing his cheekbones. "You are spectacular. Both of you are."</p><p>Crowley felt something clog his throat, like porridge in the sink. His breathing got haggard. Acting on instinct, he closed the space between them and sealed their lips together.</p><p>The night went on in loving bliss. Outside, as the thunder began to grow distant and the rain stopped trying to break inside, moans and sighs of pleasure soaked into the bedroom walls. Kisses were exchanged. Positions were taken, and sometimes traded. Pleasure was given as freely and as happily as it was taken. By the end, when the stormclouds broke apart like a biscuit dunked in milk, three exhausted figures lay on the bed. Panting. Tingling. Grinning.</p><p>"Wow." Yara pushed some hair out of her eyes, her arms like rubber. "You guys have been holding out on me. Shame on you."</p><p>Aziraphale, despite feeling like he'd just run a marathon, turned over immediately. "We didn't want to make you feel obligated, my love!" He exclaimed. "We wanted to give you time, space, for as long as it would take!"</p><p>Yara, who had started snickering at the angel's hurried explanation and borderline terrified tone, gently shushed him with her index finger. It was soon replaced with her lips, as bruised as they were. They both broke the kiss, looking deeply into each other's eyes. Hazel met bright blue. Then, Yara rubbed her nose against Aziraphale's. He giggled. "You're okay, baby. Both of you. I'm just teasing you."</p><p>Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank heavens." He reached out and tucked some hair behind Yara's ear. "One day, your teasing is going to give me a stroke."</p><p>"Then I'll be your nurse." Yara offered. "Sound good?"</p><p>"Sounds magnificent." Aziraphale emphasized this by kissing her again.</p><p>Crowley, who had been watching this exchange with a mixture of amusement and fondness, spoke up. "Anyway, <em>you're</em> the one who held out on <em>us</em>." He shook his head in wonder. "How are you so flexible? I've never seen you even do tai chi!"</p><p>Yara winked at him. "A lady never reveals her secrets."</p><p>Crowley laughed, burying his nose in the side of her neck. "You're no lady," his voice drummed against her skin, "that's one of the things I love about you."</p><p>Yara, more touched by his words than she could say, kissed the crown of his head. It left her with the taste of hair gel, but she couldn't have cared less. Then, realizing that she was in the middle, opened her arms to her boys. "Three-way cuddle?"</p><p>Aziraphale was wrapped around her like a giant barnacle before she'd even finished her question. Crowley was a bit slower but no less ethusiastic. Sighing contently against her collarbone, the demon gazed up at Yara. She was already beginning to doze off, emanating contentment like an oven emits heat. He planted a kiss on the same spot he'd been resting his chin on. "Do you really...not mind my eyes?"</p><p>Yara frowned and peered at him confusedly. "Why would I?"</p><p>"Well, because they're snake eyes." Crowley replied, a little dumbfounded. "Not a lot of those around."</p><p>"Eh," Yara kissed his temple, "I'm just glad to finally know." The hand on his back gently rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't hide anything else from me, okay? Please?"</p><p>Guilt was like a plum pit sticking into Crowley's ribs. A quick glance confirmed that Aziraphale felt the same way. Crowley quickly found a loophole. "Er, sure. But what about you? Are you going to explain what happened earlier?"</p><p>Yara hesitated, a shadow flickering across her strong-jawed face. After a few seconds, she gave a nod. "Someday. I promise. Right now, it just..." She sighed. "...Hurts too much."</p><p>Aziraphale kissed her cheek, pushing her hair out of the way. "Take as long as you need, dear. We'll be here."</p><p><em>Yeah,</em> Crowley realized,  <em>we will be</em>.</p>
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